A Baby By Any Other Name
by rejooc
Summary: Pregnancy brain is real, and it's okay to be sentimental about a color.


**A/N: Ravenclaw House, Year 2. Standard: "Burgundy." W/C: 842**

 **A great big thank you to my wonderful beta readers: 2DaughtersofAthena and Celestia0909!**

Hermione had never been a particularly sentimental woman, but lately things were just getting to her. The first time she'd noticed it was when she came home to find a vase of red roses, a dark plum color, sitting on the kitchen counter. Ron was nearby, grinning and blushing an equally dark shade.

"I don't do this stuff for you often enough," he said, like a confession. "Happy anniversary."

Hermione was smiling at the time and it took her a moment to process this. "It's not our anniversary," she responded, confused. For half a moment, she almost wondered if she'd forgotten their anniversary. It wasn't very like her, but the possibility was a real one these days.

"The anniversary of the first time I met you," he said. "Who knew a red steam engine could change my life so much?"

"Ronald," she gasped, surprised by such a display of thoughtfulness.

"Always the surprise," he muttered, only half teasing. "Give me a little credit, woman."

Hermione had smiled, stepped forward, and kissing him firmly on the lips. "You're a great husband, Ron," she murmured. And then she tucked her head against his chest, resting comfortably beneath his chin. She could feel the warmth between them rising like a flame.

They'd gone about their night and it wasn't until the following week that Hermione had been struck again with a wave of teary-eyed nostalgia. She'd been digging through some old boxes and trunks, trying to find a book she was sure she hadn't seen since they'd moved. She and Ron had kept most of their belongings packed when they first moved, a habit leftover from the war, but she was determined to make the house more comfortable and finding her favorite books were a sure way to do that. What she'd found instead had made her gasp.

Tucked under a pile of old socks and robes was a maroon sweater with a golden letter R on the front. Mrs Weasley had knitted one for Ron every year but this was his first one from Hogwarts; Mrs Weasley made a point of sewing the year into the neckline for memory's sake and this one had the emblazoned numbers "1991" in it.

Ron found Hermione half an hour later, still on her knees in the attic clutching the sweater to her chest and sobbing. She looked up at him, smiling through her tears.

"You were so small!" she murmured.

Ron's eyebrows went up, disappearing into the flame of hair at his crown. "Yes," he replied, clearly confused. "And now I'm big! Let's get you down stairs, Hermione." He sounded both concerned and amused, and Hermione would have wondered which one he was trying to mask if she hadn't been so concerned with the sweater and how much he'd grown since they met.

"But you were so small," she said again, whimpering.

"Hermione? Are you okay?" Ron's voice was low and gentle, and Hermione realized she was being soothed. "You're not usually like this."

She opened her mouth to say something but only managed a soft squeak, her puffy red eyes squeezing shut to stop another flood of tears that threatened to pour down her face.

"Come on," Ron said lending a hand to help her up. "Let's get you to the couch."

Finally, she nodded and followed him downstairs, still holding that dark red sweater. It was so soft and smelled like candy, Hogwarts, and Ron.

Hermione thought of those experiences often later on, once she'd regained some control over her emotional outbursts. She had expected smells to seem stronger- doctors always warn pregnant women about that. She'd even expected sounds to seem louder, and the headaches were the worst part of these nine months, hands down. However, she hadn't expected the emotions to seem stronger, or the colors to seem brighter.

When it was finally time to welcome their baby, they rushed to the hospital together; Ron's whole face was white and Hermione's was dark red. She was very grateful for advancements in magical medical technology, as a Muggle labor had never sounded like much fun at all. When the baby finally arrived, she was perfect.

With curled red ringlets crowning her tiny purple body, she was-

"Burgundy!" Ron cooed, amazed. "That's the word for that color! The sweater, all of it. And now our baby is burgundy. Why is she burgundy?"

Hermione laughed weakly, exhausted. "Why do you know the specific name for that shade of red, Ron? And she's burgundy because she's just been born, most little babies get kind of reddish."

"Burgundy," Ron corrected under his breath. "He suddenly smiled. "I think that could be a lovely name," he murmured to his wife as he passed their newborn into her arms.

Hermione laughed again and accepted the bundle. "I don't think that's a name," she replied. "How about Rose? That's sort of similar?"

Ron pondered this for a moment and then smiled. His freckled face shone with delight as he looked on at his wife and daughter. "Rose," he breathed. "It's perfect."


End file.
